


Your Curse is my Command

by thewitcherssongbird



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: And has to follow Geralt's orders, Curse of Obedience, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hilarity Ensues, Idiots in Love, Jaskier is cursed, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Yennefer plays matchmaker, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg is So Done, yennefer knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23444197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewitcherssongbird/pseuds/thewitcherssongbird
Summary: A crazy sorceress intended the obedience curse for Geralt but she's dead and now Jaskier is cursed to do anything and everything Geralt says. This is a problem.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 75
Kudos: 818





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I intended for this to be a short fic but it wasn't really and actually I'm having a lot of fun with this. I hope you enjoy!

“He is _my_ responsibility!” The sorceress screamed, her lovely face twisted in rage and insanity. “My _child **!”**_

“You are not healthy,” Geralt said firmly, yet diplomatically, “you shouldn’t be taking care of a child in this state, he is not your son. I will not permit you to use magic on anyone like this.” The child previously mentioned cowered behind an overturned table, the boy’s house was in shambles around the him, his father was probably off doing heaven knows what under some or other spell.

The deranged woman shrieked. “ _Permit?_ You will learn, Witcher. I do not intend to take orders from you, she grabbed a vial from the mess on the floor and poured its contents on the floor before Geralt’s feet with a psychotic laugh, he didn’t dare take his eyes off her. She started an incantation and wind raced through the chamber, taking the shambles of the house with it, wooden splinters and shards of glass embedded themselves Geralt’s skin one for one, like he was a morbid version of a throwing knife target.

He lunged for her, but found he couldn’t move further than a step, he looked to the floor. The salt had multiplied, it crept in a circle around him, a thick line of white around him. _Shit._ The child cried out as the circle formed. “ _No_ ,” the boy screamed. “Get out!” His words were hard to understand through his tears, when Geralt processed the message the circle had sealed around him. He was trapped.

The sorceress finished chanting and took a step forward.

Geralt wrenched a dagger from his belt and before thoughts could cloud his instincts, threw it at the grinning sorceress with an aim of pure reflex. It struck true with a sickening thump. The woman’s grin froze, then melted slowly off her face as the room calmed, even her unruly dark curls seemed to deflate as a shocked expression crept over her face.

“You said you wouldn’t kill me,” she said in childlike surprise, clutching the dagger in her chest. Blood soaked her light brown fingers, slender and lovely even now. Geralt breathed hard, somewhere behind him the boy was sobbing. He crawled to the edge of the circle, the splinters, the debris lodged in his skin making the movement difficult. He looked her in the eye, the least he could do.

“I’m sorry.”

The sorceress started sobbing, she screamed through her tears. “ _No!_ ” She crawled closer to Geralt until she was nearly in his face. “I was supposed to _live!_ I am not _finished!”_ Only the line of deathly white salt separated them.

“You were supposed to live,” Geralt agreed and her anger melted to sorrow and she clutched her chest, blood stained her hands, her dress as it flowed to the floor. The sorceress braced a hand on Geralt’s shoulder as her strength gave out. Geralt held her hand and soon she fell on top of him, barely breathing, he moved her, trying to get her into the comfortable position, as comfortable as one could be when dying. Her head lay against his chest.

She stopped sobbing, breaths coming slowly. She clutched Geralt’s hand in hers, both now soaked red. Geralt stroked her hair in a way he hoped was soothing.

“I’m sorry,” she said as her hand released its grip on his, going slack. She gazed at nothing now, Geralt closed her eyes. He hoped it gave her some peace.

***

That’s when Jaskier came bursting through the open door. “Geralt!” he screamed, “Geralt, are you-“ his eyes slid to the dead sorceress in his arms. “Oh,” is all he managed. The room was quiet. A few sniffles came from behind the ruined table, Jaskier instantly hurried to the source of the sound, his eyes widened when he saw the terrified boy.

“Are you alright?” he asked. The boy nodded mutely, wiping away his tears with his expensive looking sleeve.

That being enough for him, the bard turned back to Geralt. His eyes seemed full of grief. Grief for the dead woman in his arms whom he barely knew. Who had tried to kill him. He still held her limp hand in his, his eyes staring at nothing.

“Geralt,” he tried gently.

Geralt seemed to come back to himself and met his eyes. Jaskier stepped closer, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Jaskier.” He said it as if he only recognized him now.

“Come on,” Jaskier urged and picked a thick splinter from Geralt’s cheek, “we need to get these out.”

Geralt hummed in agreement. He drew the dagger smoothly from the sorceress’ chest and wiped it on his own shirt instead of hers, probably lodging a dozen splinters deeper into his skin but Jaskier didn’t reprimand him.

He moved the woman aside and stood up, eyes searching. Jaskier grabbed a wine stained tablecloth from the wreckage on the floor and handed it to Geralt to drape over the dead body. Blood mixed with wine, it crept slowly in a morbid fashion over the pale cloth until the blood couldn’t be distinguished from the wine.

A voice shouted from downstairs. “ _Mikolaj!”_ Heavy footsteps raced quickly up the stairs. “ _Mikolaj!”_

“Father!” The boy shouted and suddenly a figure appeared in the doorway.

“Mikolaj,” the lord sank to his knees in relief as the boy ran to him and enveloped him in his arms, ignoring the two men completely. They stood awkwardly to the side as man and his son blocked the doorway.

Finally, the lord lifted his head and in his first bout of common sense in probably quite a while, demanded “Who are you?”

“They saved me, Father,” said Mikolaj. “They saved me from _her_.”

The lord’s eyes widened as they drifted to the body under the quickly reddening tablecloth.

***

The lord had given them a frankly outrageous sum to thank them for their deeds. Geralt had looked so uncomfortable that Jaskier was worried the ground w _ould_ swallow him, but before he could refuse Jaskier had jumped in and thanked the lord politely. They had needed the money.

He had however refused the offer to stay the night. The forest floor they were sitting on was still warm with the setting sun as the bright day turned slowly to twilight. Jaskier chattered away to fill the silence as they removed their sleeping mats from Roach’s saddlebags. Geralt mumbled something about firewood as he made to take off into the forest but Jaskier was having none of that.

“No, come back here and sit down. You are not impaling yourself with any more splinters.” Geralt grumbled but did as he was told. Jaskier retrieved some dried meat from their packs and shoved some into Geralt’s hands with a simple order, “Eat.” Then he took off into the forest to collect the wood himself. Geralt grudgingly began gnawing on the meat.

When he came back, arms full of wood, he found Geralt shirtless and mournfully inspecting the state of his shirt. Jaskier stared at the amount of glass and wood embedded in his skin and thanked the God’s that _he_ wasn’t a Witcher.

He soon found his eyes skimming over the wounds and instead lingering the muscle and skin. He blushed and looked away. He knelt down, his back toward Geralt and busied himself with making the fire.

Jaskier laid out the wood carefully, hyperaware of Geralt at his back. He tried and failed to get the fire going. His fingers were clumsy with the spark stones, so when he nearly split his finger open by missing the other stone Geralt sighed and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Move aside.” Jaskier moved instantly. How odd, he’d wanted to refuse and then… He moved without question and let Geralt cast a sign on the fire which had it instantly blazing. He chose to ignore the strange feeling.

“Alright,” he said with determination as he stood up, “let’s get it over with, shall we?” He fetched the medical kit from Geralt’s bags and moved to the Witcher’s back, tweezers in hand.

He took a deep breath and got to work. Geralt sat perfectly still as Jaskier focused on pulling the large glass pieces out first. He laid them into one of the any cloths they always carried for good reason.

Geralt flinched when Jaskier accidentally pressed down on wound. “Sorry,” Jaskier winced.

Geralt only hummed and let him continue. The process was slow and probably painful but Geralt didn’t complain and soon his back was clean and Jaskier moved on to his arms. He moved the injured Witcher around gently, either letting Geralt brace an elbow on his own knee for balance or holding his wrist in place as he worked on his forearm.

Geralt didn’t look at him, he just stared at the fire as if the memory of the sorceress in his arms wasn’t quite gone yet. Jaskier let him be but once or twice he found his attention slipping to the way his muscles flexed and relaxed. He brought his focus back quickly before he hurt the Witcher.

“I can do the rest myself,” Geralt offered but Jaskier ignored him and motioned form him to lean back on his elbows. Geralt did so with a sigh, baring his chest and stomach to Jaskier. Oh. Oh the gods must have been particularly proud of this masterpiece. He almost drooled at the expanse of sculpted muscle carved into tanned skin.

He hoped the near darkness hid his blush, before remembering that Geralt had Witcher eyes and it wasn’t dark yet anyway. He hoped he had ignored him.

“Umm.” He shuffled around, trying to find a good angle to work at and finding none. “Do mind if…” he stammered.

“Just do it,” Geralt ordered unceremoniously. Without Jaskier’s conscious consent, his body moved to straddle the Witcher who looked pointedly away. That was odd, he frowned at himself. But at the wide expanse of Geralt’s blood splattered and splinter covered torso, all thoughts of oddities flew out the window. A large gash on his stomach looked gruesome, Jaskier’s insides clenched at the thought of disinfecting it. He hated disinfecting.

“You know,” he said as he leaned down to work with another piece of debris, just to fill the awkward silence with something, “I don’t know what you were thinking running into that house. She could have killed you and now you look like… I don’t know what. This is why we need each other. What were you thinking?”

“This is why we need each other?” Geralt asked and of course ignored the rest of what Jaskier had said. This is what one called ‘selective listening’.

“Well, you know.” Jaskier shrugged, not looking away from where he was wriggling a stubborn splinter out even though he could feel those yellow-golden eyes on him. “I’m your impulse control and you’re mine.”

Geralt snorted and finally looked away. “Hmm. You’d have been dead at twenty-one. You’re very lucky to have me.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said softly as he finally pulled the stubborn piece free and laid it on the cloth, “I am.”

The quiet was heavy as Geralt looked at him. Jaskier avoided his eyes, fucking Witcher hearing and seeing and gods just fuck the _Witcher_. He nearly laughed at the thought, wouldn’t that be nice.

“So am I,” Geralt said softly. And then, “Were it not for you I’d have to seduce some sorceress to wrench glass from my back.”

“Wouldn’t take much for _you_ ,” he said offhandedly. His face burned as he realized what he had said. Fuck, he really needed to focus.

“Hmm,” he said as if he were making a note in a diary. He had _that_ expression on his face, Jaskier could _hear_ the smirk. “Because I get all the women?” He wished he had told the stupid Witcher to move into literally any other position, at the moment everything just screamed _fuckable_.

 _Shit_.

He looked stubbornly down to where he was working and did his best to ignore the eyes on him. “Just shut up I’m almost done.”

***

Geralt dutifully shut his mouth and let him work. Even though he wouldn’t admit it and Jaskier didn’t mention it, killing the sorceress had left a mark. He couldn’t stop thinking about it but the fact that Jaskier was right there, safe and sound and alive and not insane in any way that was serious made him feel a bit better and soon the dead sorceress faded from his mind.

By the time his torso was once again free of foreign objects, Geralt felt obligated to mention that his leather pants had saved his legs from being impaled. He was somewhat reluctant to mention it because, see, the thing was, he’d recently come to the realization that he wouldn’t mind Jaskier taking his pants off. It was a serious problem.

That left only his face. Jaskier sighed as he finally, willingly this time, looked him in the eye as if the task was daunting but he’d made up his mind to do it anyway. Well didn’t that just sum up his own situation just perfectly.

“Alright, sit up,” he said and Geralt’s heart almost stopped dead in his chest as he sat up. Jaskier’s face was barely three inches away from his own, his lips were right there and gods, now he noticed how Jaskier was practically sitting in his lap. Oh heavens, his eyes were a _very_ bright blue.

Logically, Geralt knew that the bits in his face would hurt a lot more than the rest but it still came as a shock when Jaskier pulled the first one free. He flinched at the sting. Jaskier’s face contorted into a pained expression _for_ him. He nearly wanted to tell him to stop tugging at his newly discovered heartstrings but then he’d have to admit that Jaskier _was_ tugging on his heartstrings.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier winced as if this was as painful for him as it was for Geralt. Actually he had already forgotten what there was to be sorry about so he said nothing. Jaskier fumbled with the tweezers for a moment before continuing.

The process was slow but the pain was far from his mind as he stared at the blue of Jaskier’s eyes, the tongue peeking through his pink lips as he concentrated, the neatly groomed eyebrows and the furrow of concentration between them. It was cute.

“Stop staring.”

“Where else should I look?”

“I don’t know. Close your eyes,” Jaskier suggested sarcastically, not looking away from the piece of wood he was gently easing from just below his lip

“Hmm,” he pretended to consider. “No.”

“Oh you know what? The universe has decided to torture me. You have been sent to test me,” he claimed dramatically. Geralt smiled in amusement.

“Right, brace yourself. There’s one in your lip.” Jaskier put his fingers hesitantly on his lip to hold him in place and Geralt’s eyes slipped shut. Jaskier’s fingers were cool on his lip.

 _Fuck_.

There was a quick sting and the splinter was out but the fingers stayed and Jaskier was still sitting in Geralt’s lap. Geralt opened his eyes.

“That’s all of them,” Jaskier murmured, looking at his lips. That was unfair. Did he even know what he was doing?

“You’re speckled with blood. And that cut needs disinfecting and dressing.” Neither of them moved.

“You still need to eat,” Geralt said and only because it was all he could come up with. Then Jaskier jerked away as if he’d been burned and cleared his throat. He got up, leaving Geralt feeling cold.

He grabbed a piece of cloth and the waterskin and started cleaning Geralt up like he was a helpless child and couldn’t do it himself. He bandaged the few wounds that were looking prone to infection. The last deep cut on his stomach seemed to smile at them as f it knew it was rather inconvenient.

Jaskier awkwardly returned to the previous position of straddling him to get a decent angle to work at. It was even worse than the first time. Geralt wished something would come and eat him alive just to save him from this misery of seeing and not being able to touch.

Jaskier cleaned the blood away with a wet cloth and took another to douse in disinfectant. He took a steadying breath before he started.

The disinfectant burned on the cut as Jaskier touched it down gently, Geralt flinched and groaned in pain, his whole torso tensed but the cloth was already gone, Jaskier removed it as if it had burned _him_. He’d forgotten how much it hurt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Geralt,” he rambled and scrunched his eyes up as if he really could feel Geralt’s pain. Gods why did he have to be so damn… _Jaskier_.

“Just put the cloth back on,” Geralt ordered through clenched teeth.

“No,” Jaskier protested but his hands instantly put the cloth back where it was, so quickly Geralt nearly doubled over in pain. “No what the hell tell me to take it off, Geralt. Right now.”

What? Why? “Fine,” he said, “just do as you see fit then, why don’t you?”

The cloth with the disinfectant was instantly gone, thrown away into the trees somewhere. Jaskier breathed heavily, his eyes were wide and frightened. He stared at his own hands in horror.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all ready for idiots in love? You should all be grateful for quarantine bcs now I have so much time it's lovely

“Look at me,” Geralt ordered. Jaskier wasn’t going to look at him, of course he wasn’t when suddenly his head lifted completely against his will.

“Geralt, something strange is going on, this isn’t normal. Look, I’m serious, ever since we walked out of that house something… I don’t know. Look it feels funny. I don’t feel like myself, I just-“

Geralt raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“No! Stop it with that face! I’m being serious!”

“Oh shut up!” Geralt said and suddenly Jaskier’s mouth snapped shut.

“Oh wow, that was fast,” he commented. Jaskier smacked his chest. He grunted in pain. Jaskier gestured wildly to his shut mouth, waving his arms around in panic.

“What, Jaskier?” the bastard sounded impatient.

Jaskier tried to groan but no sound escaped, only a comical display of body language was left.

_Why was this man so dense?_

***

“I never thought I’d say this but just talk, Jaskier.”

The bard seemed to regain his linguistic abilities and screamed, “Something is wrong!”

Geralt frowned.

“Uhh.” Jaskier fiddled with his fingers and bit his lip, looking like he was searching for something to say. “Ah, tell me to do something.”

Geralt frowned some more. Jaskier looked at him expectantly.

“Uhhh, raise your hand?” Jaskier’s hand shot up.

“What the hell! Look!” he shouted, staring at his raised arm in terror. “I can’t control anything! What the _fuck?!”_

The man looked terrified. He began shaking, Geralt’s eyes widened as he saw him starting to tremble. “Good gods, put your hand down. Relax!” he said. Jaskier instantly relaxed above him.

“Don’t tell me to relax! Don’t tell me to do anything! I don’t like this,” he moaned.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t…” He searched for words. “-Not do what you tell me. I can’t control it. At all. Please do something!”

“I’m sorry, just ah, do what you want.”

“No no no no no,” Jaskier protested even as he moved closer. “Try, do as you see fit? That worked. Or something? Anything else!”

“Do as you see fit!” Geralt said quickly, Jaskier moved away instantly and sighed in relief. How odd.

They stared at each other, which was a more frequent experience than one would expect in their daily lives. Jaskier made a ‘well?’ gesture. Well? Well Geralt didn’t know, how was he supposed to know?

“How should I know? Spells and curses aren’t exactly my area of expertise.”

“Well, what do we do then?”

“I don’t know, what if I order you to not to do anything I say?”

“Won’t that just have the opposite effect? That won’t help. What if we break some law or something, what if we get stuck like that and then whenever you tell me to do something you’ll have to tell me what not to do.”

“Yes, alright just-“

Jaskier cut him off with a finger to his lips. “Don’t you dare.”

Geralt sighed. “We have to go see Yennefer,” he said.

Jaskier groaned. “Yennefer? Why do we always have to go to her? She doesn’t like me,” he complained. Geralt chuckled. “What is it with you and Yennefer?”

Geralt shrugged, “She’s the smartest person I know. She’s a sorceress, she’ll know what to do.”

“She’ll know what to do,” he mocked. “Where is Yennefer anyway,” Jaskier asked, trying to sound casual but Geralt could hear the venom in the way he said her name.

“Close,” is all he said.

Jaskier scoffed. “Well anyway I’m not disinfecting this anymore, I can’t stomach it. I’m sorry but I can’t”

“It’s fine just clean it with water.”

“Geralt don’t order me to do things!” He moaned as he angrily picked up the cloth with the water that was still lying next to him. It was already red with blood.

“Sorry, do as you will.”

Oh, this was a recipe for disaster.

“Promise me you won’t abuse this… curse,” Jaskier demanded as he bandaged the cut.

“Fine,” Geralt sighed, “but I can’t promise not to have some fun.”

Jaskier gasped. “You _wouldn’t_.”

***

When Yennefer opened the door of her latest manor to see Geralt and his pet bard standing on the doorway with expressions of lost puppies on their faces, she rolled her eyes so hard she was surprised she didn’t see what the hell she was thinking when she let them in.

She led them to an artfully decorated sitting room and motioned for them to sit before bringing them all a pint of ale because heavens knew she would need it. And some biscuits, because self-love was important.

“So,” she started crossing a leg, “what did you do?”

She wholeheartedly expected Geralt to deny that they had come for her help but Jaskier didn’t give him a chance. He didn’t even bother to pretend they were here for tea and biscuits and started rambling immediately. It was a refreshing change from Geralt’s stubbornly short sentences.

“So the other day we were in this city and there was a sorceress there, we didn’t catch her name-“

“Maryan Helsing,” Geralt filled in.

“Maryan Helsing?!” Yennefer nearly spit out her drink, her eyes went wide. “She’s the craziest sorceress on the continent!”

“Thank you Geralt. Anyway-“ Jaskier put a hand on his knee in thanks. Yennefer raised her brows in anticipation for him to sweep it off, smack it away or even just move his knee away but he never did and the hand stayed even though Geralt looked very uncomfortable. Now _that_ was interesting.

“-She’d apparently just appeared in the city all of a sudden, and put the lord under a spell like you did with Geralt once-” Yennefer narrowed her eyes at the mention and Jaskier immediately steered away from the subject. “– for no reason and the lord was obviously out of his mind and doing the gods know what and then a lord’s wife who had been visiting family, and let me tell you she was a useless piece of gossip, came and cried to _Geralt_ about it, and now imagine everyone has been talking about the famous Witcher and how he hunts _monsters_ for years now and still they’re asking Geralt to kill _people_. How stupid can you be.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes dramatically. It was cute how defensive the feral little bard got. For a bard, he really was quite bad at recounting their misadventures. Yennefer only looked into the drink she’d been swirling and took another sip.

“Now the wife tells him to kill the witch because she has their son, their _son!_ And she said it so _casually!_ Now anyway I wasn’t there at the time so of course Geralt decided to get involved. _Again_.”

That was a familiar line. Geralt looked offended but didn’t get a chance to say anything.

“And then nearly got himself killed trying to _reason_ with the woman who was very clearly absolutely deranged! Maniacal laughter and death threats included, according to Geralt. And then she poured some salt on the ground and started _chanting_. And the salt crept around him and made a circle, all the while the boy was sitting behind a table and crying his lungs out, he was traumatized! And the circle sealed and suddenly there was a _hurricane_ in the room.”

Honestly how had he gotten all that out of a man who talked as much as a brick. Oooooh wait a minute, she knew where this was heading. These absolute idiots, how were they both still alive?

“And then she stopped and started doing I don’t know what so Geralt kind of, ahh,” he gestured vaguely.

“You killed her?” Yennefer demanded. “Before she could finish the spell?”

“Well she looked finished,” Geralt grumbled. Yennefer groaned.

“And then I rushed into the room because I heard Geralt was out getting himself killed. And then I don’t know what happened but watch this.” He gestured for Geralt to say something.

The Witcher sighed but spoke, “Stand up.” Jaskier stood up immediately. Now that was unfair, Geralt had never done what she told him to and neither had the bard.

“Take off your shirt,” Geralt said casually. Jaskier started untucking his shirt even as he protested.

“What? Wait, Geralt no! You said you wouldn’t take advantage of this! Make it stop!”

Geralt chuckled in amusement but relented, “Alright stop.” Jaskier immediately ceased any action and stopped comically midair, shirt still half off.

“Right, sorry. Do what you want.” Jaskier started took a step toward Geralt.

“Uh Geralt,” his voice rose higher in panic. “Not that one.”

“Do as you will!”

Yennefer frowned, how curious. What had Jaskier _wanted_ to do? Jaskier relaxed and turned to her. “Well this is the problem and I don’t know what we did.”

Geralt was still smiling. She’d never seen Geralt smile as much as he did in the past few minutes. A smile looked nice on him. And how on earth did Jaskier get all that out of the man? Talking to him was like talking to a wall.

Oh. Oh of course! It hit her then. He was in _love_! The Witcher was in love. They both were! Gods they were idiots. It had only taken her minutes to figure it out. Minutes. _They were in love!_

She sighed. “I’ll tell you what you did.”

Jaskier sat down next to Geralt, so close that Geralt tensed, but he didn’t move or shove the bard away. _And they didn’t know._ Yennefer took a biscuit from the tray.

“ _You,_ ” she pointed at Jaskier with the biscuit, “stepped into the circle, like an idiot. You should know not to step into funny looking circles. And _you_ ,” she gestured to Geralt, “said his name.” She took a bite of the accusatory biscuit. “And now you have to do what he says because you finished the spell.”

“For how long?” Jaskier asked.

“Indefinitely,” Yennefer lied. She’d fix it when she was done playing.

“Indefinitely?” Geralt demanded. “What do you mean indefinitely?”

“It means you’ll have to wait it out,” Yennefer said sarcastically and got up. “Well you’re welcome to stay here a while if you like. I’d rather recommend it, what with the unpredictability of _her_ magic. And the weather is about to take a turn for the worse over the next few weeks.”

Well the weather _was_ going to be horrid, that much was true but Geralt and Jaskier were still gaping like fish. Oh matchmaking was fun.

“Unfortunately I only have one guestroom,” she lied further. “You’ll have to share the bed but you always do, so I hope you don’t mind. Come on, I’ll give you a tour.”

Jaskier paled and Geralt’s eyes widened at the word ‘share’. She had to repeat the offer for the tour. They were adorable.

***

Jaskier barely retained any information during the tour except the location of the guestroom and the bathroom next to it. “You’ll have to share the bed” ran like a mantra through his head.

After supper, Geralt procured Yennefer’s help to make his potions and Jaskier decided to take his chance at privacy and have a hot bath and then retreat to their room.

He stared at the bed, it was large and fluffy and all too inviting. It looked like a cloud and with further experimentation, he discovered it felt like one too. This was going to be awkward. They hadn’t shared a bed in months, and worst of all not since Jaskier had discovered he had _feelings_ for Geralt.

He got dressed for bed quickly and climbed under the sheets. The bed seemed to hug him and the pillows were a piece of heaven itself. But all this felt like a secondary experience to Jaskier, all his mind wanted to think about was _Geralt, Geralt, Geralt, Geralt is going to sleep in_ this _bed._

He couldn’t escape it. Eventually he shut his eyes and hoped Geralt would only come to bed after he’d fallen asleep and wake up after Jaskier did, if only to save them both the awkwardness that was waking up in the same bed. Possibly entangled. He had a long history of cuddling in his sleep and it wasn’t going to benefit him now.

No, Geralt wouldn’t appreciate that. At all. But he wasn’t exactly going to sleep on the floor or the couch in the sitting room so with a sigh and a prayer he climbed into bed and hoped for the best.

***

Geralt opened the door of the guestroom he’d been shown to earlier to see Jaskier sprawled out over the sheets. He slept on his stomach, hugging a pillow and most notably, shirtless.

One look at his sleeping form, smooth, freshly cleaned skin hiding the barest hint of muscle gained from their adventuring, one look of how his spine made a perfect curve, and his already sleep mussed hair, of his face was pressed into the pillow, eyelashes making long shadows over his cheeks, one look of Jaskier and Geralt promptly closed the door as quickly as he had opened it.

He leaned back against the door and slid down slowly and frankly pathetically until he was sitting on the floor, head in his hands and thinking:

_Oh fuck._

***

Well, the gods evidently had a personal vendetta against him, and had decided to completely ignore his prayers. Jokes on them, he didn’t believe they were worth being prayed to anyway.   
When he woke up, Geralt was nowhere to be found.

Awful things immediately started running through his head. Had the Witcher woken with him on top of him, using him as a pillow? Or had he woken with entangles limbs and a bard in his arms. He seriously debated just staying in the bed but decided it would accomplish nothing and got dressed and headed downstairs to find his possibly last breakfast.

But there Geralt was, solemn as ever and looking no more inclined to murder than usual. Jaskier even poked him on his very muscled arm, to which he only got a what-the-fuck-do-you-want stare, a specialty.

Had he ever _been_ in the bed? If so, how had Jaskier not noticed? He wasn’t a heavy sleeper, he usually woke up when Jaskier came back to a rented tavern room in the middle of the night, covered I blood and gore. He would have noticed, right? Had he not slept at all? He should be able to see that, dark circles or something. Maybe he had meditated. Well in any case, Jaskier was still alive and as far as he could tell, Geralt wasn’t even mad at him.

So he shut his mouth and went on with his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be up like tomorrow idk. I have a lot of time on my hands. Thank you for reading, please leave kudos and comments!!<3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk what you expected but this is what happened. Happy reading!

The following two weeks were a series of mishaps and mayhem and a cacophony of complaints which all together rendered Geralt insane, sleep deprived and sexually frustrated. It was that fucking curse that he’d landed himself into that had started this whole mess and he wasn’t even the one cursed! The thing was, every time he told Jaskier something, he did it. He did it and complained rather loudly while doing so.

He really had tried to avoid ordering Jaskier to do anything but he kept forgetting. Then he tried his best to avoid Jaskier altogether but due to Yennefer, avoiding him completely was impossible.

And that wasn’t even the half of it. The weather took a sudden turn to even more cloudy and rainy days which deflated Geralt’s general mood, not that anyone noticed. And suddenly things that had absolutely nothing to do with the wretched obedience curse started happening on top of the wretched obedience curse and Geralt had a sneaking suspicion Yen had something, or everything, to do with it.

The first evening, Geralt accidentally ordered Jaskier to pass the chicken and immediately got “Geralt!” shouted in his face while Yennefer snickered at the end of the dinner table. Fucking curse.

A few days later he told Jaskier to pick up his goddamn clothes from the fucking floor and put them away because he was a grown man and he immediately sprung to the task immediately with a glare that almost had him retreating from the room, which mind you, was not something Geralt did. Curses were a thing of nightmares.

One perfectly fine morning when Yennefer was busy with a client in the sitting area, the kitchen door locked itself behind him and of course, locked him in with Jaskier. A faint smell of lilac and gooseberries hung in the air. Geralt tried to pick the lock with a metal skewer he found in a cupboard while Jaskier complained very loudly. But the door was locked magically. The door leading to the back of the manor was also magically locked. That was Yennefer’s doing.

But then he told Jaskier to shut the hell up while he fiddled with the lock. Honestly he’d completely forgotten about their predicament until a very sharp knife lodged itself into the door above his head. He couldn’t tell if Jaskier had missed on purpose but he was too busy apologizing to ask. The man was dangerous when he was angry.

The next evening, he ordered the aggravating bard to leave him alone and he promptly _left_ , traversing the town in the dark and efficiently leaving Geralt alone. Geralt had to stalk him for an hour to catch him off guard and release him from the command just so that he could come back to the manor. It was exhausting, who knew Jaskier was so good at avoiding him? He didn’t get the chance to ask, Jaskier was furious and made sure they all knew it.

The next afternoon, it was pouring outside and everyone was bored out of their minds and frankly fed up with Jaskier’s chattering. The bard seemed to have so much pent up energy and frustration that Geralt wouldn’t have been surprised if he had crawled out of his own skin just for something to do. They all decided to play board games, sitting on the floor around the table with blankets and hot cocoa.

Yennefer had decided to give them both a single blanket to share. He was sure she secretly dropped the temperature in the room, he glared at her even as Jaskier huddled closer to him and took his arm around his shoulder, almost climbing into his lap. That was actually nice but he wouldn’t admit that, because he was a firm believer of not taking advantage of someone one was in love with. At least Jaskier had shut up, for some mysterious reason, but Geralt wasn’t going to ask and jinx it.

There were also multiple instances where he told the chatterbox to shut up and well, Geralt had never seen murder so clearly in anyone’s face. Once or twice he’d admit that he ignored the glares and enjoyed the silence just for a moment. But then he’d get hit with pillows, shoes, cutlery, food, chess pieces and on a special occasion, a candelabra. With candles. That were lit.

Jaskier wasn’t unusually clumsy but in two weeks he had tripped twice over a loose floorboard, thrice over absolutely nothing and once he had fallen from the stairs. Luckily he was nearly down them and in all instances Geralt was very conveniently there to catch him and nearly die of lust and longing as his eyes caught on the lips that were always slightly open and showing a hint of perfect teeth as Jaskier’s breathed heavily, probably from shock or frustration, who knew.

Yennefer was of course always lurking somewhere near. Not that it qualified lurking because it was technically her house but that wasn’t the point.

Well, there was one accident which Geralt was actually quite sure had nothing to do with Yennefer _or_ the curse. Geralt was deathly tired when he walked into the bathroom and promptly turned on his heel and walked out again with a growing problem in his trousers.

In the past few months, Jaskier had been more careful about showing skin in Geralt’s presence, he hadn’t noticed until now but he realized it as he walked back down the stairs. Jaskier had been lying languidly in the bathtub, eyes closed in pleasure as his hand no doubt moved hidden under the water. Fuck.

And all these days, Geralt hadn’t fucking _slept!_ Every night he’d go to up to the roof and meditate for an hour or so, but meditation wasn’t meant to keep him functioning for two weeks and Geralt was _not_ friendly when sleep deprived. But what could he do? Sleep in the day and let Yennefer know he was an absolute coward? No. Climb into a bed with the man he was lusting after? No. He had _morals_.

***

It was another, rainy day when Geralt and Jaskier were sitting on the couch in Yennefer’s apothecary while she worked. Jaskier was trying to see how high he could stack her decorative stones and Geralt nearly dozed off with his feet in Jaskier’s lap. They had nothing better to do in the cold outside. A fire burned merrily in the hearth, there was one in nearly every room of the house. There was no firewood in sight, only a distinct scent that was not smoke hung in the air around the flames.

“Geralt I need you to grab that potion and hand it to me, please. Jaskier don’t touch it, you’re human,” Yennefer said. Bullshit.

This meant Geralt had to lean over Jaskier to get the potion, perfect. And suddenly with that overly familiar scent tickling his nostrils, his hand slipped and he landed with his face in Jaskier’s lap, who squeaked in surprise and probably fear that Geralt was about to bite him or something. Not that he blamed him with the mood he’d been in recently.

He shot a venomous glare at the meddlesome sorceress as grabbed the allegedly dangerous potion and smacked down hard on Yennefer’s table. His glare went unnoticed as she continued humming and leafing through her book, absently taking it and thumbing out the cork.

Why did she insist on making this so hard for him? For all her good intentions couldn’t she see that the stupid, annoying, stupidly handsome, infuriatingly lovable, _human_ bard was not. _Fucking. Interested_?

“Jaskier, go make us some cocoa,” he said then. Predictably, Jaskier cried out in protest while he got up to make them cocoa.

“Two sugars,” Yennefer called after him, not looking up from her notes, and got a ‘fuck you’ back.

He stared at her. She ignored him.

“Yennefer.”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Making a cure for the blacksmith’s daughter. She has an interesting case of smallpox,” she answered casually, still not looking at him.

“No, what are you doing to us?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” Geralt grabbed her wrist as she reached for another herb. He let go when she sighed and looked at him.

“Geralt, I thought you two just needed a bit of a push but evidently you need a really hard shove. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“Yen.” She must have seen something on his face, she cupped his face in concern and stroked her thumb over the dark circle under his eye, he looked down at the potion she had been making to avoid her mothering eyes.

“Geralt, what’s wrong?”

“Yen, you need to stop,” he started and then his voice shook as he continued, ”You need to leave it alone. Please. It hurts, okay? He- He’s not interested.”

“Have you asked him if he is?”

He pulled away from her as he heard Jaskier’s angry steps. He brought a stormy expression and three cups of cocoa with him.

***

Jaskier on the other hand was nearly boiling with barely contained rage. Geralt had been avoiding him for nearly three whole weeks and when he did see him he was being forcefully ignored or ordered around. Nevermind not taking advantage of the fucking obedience curse.

He went to sleep alone, and he woke up alone. He could barely tell Geralt had been there at all. The man was purposely avoiding him. He didn’t know what he had done but after weeks of saying nothing he was fed up. He hadn’t seen Geralt in two hole days and he hadn’t gone anywhere, Jaskier still heard him downstairs or in the room when he was in the bath or almost asleep. Geralt had been avoiding him.

One night, he waited and waited for Geralt to sneak to bed, because he _was_ sneaking, but he never came. Eventually he got up and checked the upper floor, then padded silently down the stairs. He found Yennefer still on the couch with a cup of tea and a book.

“Where is Geralt?”

Yennefer shrugged. “He went upstairs a while ago.”

That was odd. Jaskier thanked her and headed back up the stairs. Where could he possibly be? He checked the upper floor again, when he found nothing, he intended to go back to bed. That’s when he spotted a ladder at the end of the corridor. He went to investigate and found that it led to a trapdoor in the roof.

Being a curious and determined soul, he of course climbed up and onto the roof. The cold hit him like whip, the wind slashed at his face and he instantly wrapped his arms around himself to keep from shivering. It wasn’t raining but the night had brought a thick layer of mist and cold with it and a thin wind that gave the cold an even sharper bite.

He squinted through the mist, the dark tiles of the roof merged with the darkness of the night, but there! He spotted a figure kneeling in the dark.

“Geralt?” he called. He got no answer.

Jaskier climbed fully onto the roof and moved closer. Shit! Geralt was _meditating_. In the _freezing cold!_

“Geralt!” He shook the Witcher’s shoulder. Geralt flinched and grabbed his wrist and in a quick move, he was on his back and Geralt was above him. The tiles bit into his back. Witcher’s and their reflexes. Why was he so turned on by this? He was still angry.

Jaskier pried the Witcher’s hands from him but Geralt let go almost instantly, his whole body sagged even though Jaskier was still trapped under it. Concern did away with any anger he had intended to unleash. He looked like shit.

“Sorry,” Geralt said in that it’s-all-my-fault-and-you-should-probably- hate-me-for-it tone that Jaskier hated so much. And then, “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night, it’s freezing.”

“Oh you’re telling _me_?!” he shouted, wriggling under Geralt even though he was clearly _not moving_ , why did this feel so obscene? “What are _you_ doing- Geralt, have you been sleeping?” Geralt looked ready to pass out, dark circles were visible under his drooping eyes, even in the dark. His muscles looked tired, barely keeping him from crushing Jaskier as he sighed an exhausted sigh. “You need to get into bed _right now_.”

Geralt mumbled something unintelligible but moved off of him. Jaskier stood up, then helped Geralt up and took him by the arm when he started swaying on his feet.

He pulled Geralt all the way to their room and then sucked in a fortifying breath and started removing Geralt’s shirt. “Oh no,” Geralt slurred deliriously and batted his hands away, “you should probably stop undressing me.”

Oh gods did he know? Well, Jaskier decided, it didn’t matter. That hadn’t been an order, luckily and Geralt had to sleep. Jaskier tugged the witcher’s shirt off and guided him to the bed. He fell hard onto the mattress and didn’t speak again. Jaskier assumed he was asleep and decided to tug off his boots before letting himself freak out, just holding the mental breakdown away for another minute.

And then the boots were off and to put it lightly: fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfucking _shit!_ ‘You should stop undressing me’? He knew. Geralt knew. Definitely. _Did_ he know? Wouldn’t he have protested more? What did this mean? Was he having visions when he said that? He’d seemed out of it. He was a Witcher he didn’t have visions until he was nearly at deaths door. Jaskier lay down and held his head in his hand before it fell off. He stared at the ceiling. _What now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. I make no promises for when the next chapter will be up but I'm hoping for tomorrow or the day after. Anyway toss a kudo or a comment to your hard working writer cuz bro I'm doing this for free and satisfaction is all I get out of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what

Jaskier hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep. He opened his eyes and saw only sheets and pillows and… skin. He was curled up into Geralt’s chest, a heavy arm was draped over him, holding him close. He couldn’t tell whose fault it was that they were in this position but in the haze of sleep, he didn’t care. He breathed in and filled his lungs with pure Geralt. He could live on his scent alone.

He really did intend to get up, have a bath and not mention it but Geralt was still asleep. But he closed his eyes and stayed a little longer, pretending all was right with the world and that this was where he belonged.

***

Geralt breathed in a soapy smell and snuggled closer to the warm body in his arms. Dreams mingled into reality as easily as paint in water but slowly he blinked himself awake.

Jaskier was curled up in his arms, his head tucked into Geralt’s neck so that Geralt’s face was pressed to his hair. And it smelled absolutely _heavenly_. Geralt’s eyes widened, no no no no no no no. This was wrong. This was all his fault. This was exactly what he was afraid would happen.

He detangled his own body from Jaskier’s with utmost care and moved carefully off the bed, trying his best not to jostle it and wake the sleeping, calm, _angelic_ man. He realized he had been staring and quickly gathered a shirt, fresh pants and his boots and got dressed in the bathroom like an absolute idiot.

***

When he woke again, Jaskier stretched languidly and rolled over with every intention of going back to sleep. Jaskier jerked awake. Geralt was gone, nowhere to be seen. Something had really happened this time, he could feel it. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit!_

***

Yennefer had stopped meddling, but she’d left the curse for a while longer.

For all the world Geralt looked _calm_ as he entered the kitchen that morning and put the kettle on. It was his eyes that gave him away. His pupils were thin slits, barely there and exposing his well hidden panic.

“What happened?” Yennefer demanded. Geralt stared at her, said nothing and proceeded to grab a random assortment of fruits from the basket on the table for breakfast, forgetting about the kettle he’d just put on.

“Geralt,” she said more forcefully, putting down her book. His breathing was heavy as he stared at her.

“Do you need firewood?”

Not ten minutes later, Jaskier followed, hysteria poorly hidden. Scratch that, it was written all over his face.

“Where is he?”

“Jaskier. What happened?” she demanded again, hoping she would get an answer this time.

“You know my name,” the bard said dumbly. Of course she knew his name. She tried to say something but Jaskier forgot about his stunning discovery and demanded “Where did he go?”

“-I don’t know, he said something about firewood-” she managed to get out.

“What do you mean firewood, you’re magic.”

Yennefer opened her mouth to say something but Jaskier was already out through the door toward the back of the house.

***

The sky started spitting on him, Jaskier silently cursed the gods. He could hear the wood splitting under violent swings of an axe. He was angry. He was disgusted. He was pretending the wooden block was Jaskier’s head. He nearly turned around, maybe to go hide behind Yennefer, but he steeled himself before he could chicken out.

Geralt might be angry, but he needed to get over it. He needed to say what he wanted to say. Jaskier wasn’t going to pretend nothing was wrong anymore. He wasn’t going to pretend he was fine with being ignored and avoided. No. If Geralt wanted to rage and scream he’d have to rage and scream but Jaskier needed to know what he had done to deserve it besides cozy up to him in his sleep the previous night.

He would apologize. Because he was decent and it was the decent thing to do. And then Geralt could do whatever the hell he wanted but it was high time he _did_ it.

Geralt chopped wood with alarming accuracy. Jaskier watched as yet another piece fell away in perfect halves and then quarters. The pile at Geralt’s side grew steadily. Jaskier wondered how long he had been chopping firewood for.

Geralt was reaching for another piece when he noticed Jaskier out of the corner of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping the ae and his shoulders all at once.

He opened his mouth but the word was spinning around in his head. The uneven droplets of rain thickened into a light shower. Jaskier spared a thought for his socks. And then the single, two syllable word processed in his brain. Wait. _Sorry?!_ What did he mean sorry? Jaskier was supposed to say sorry and then Geralt was supposed to be angry so that Jaskier could be angry and then-

“Sorry? You’re supposed to- wh… you… “ Words escaped him. Jaskier threw his hands in the air and let them fall again, turning this way and that, he looked at the forest behind the house, he clenched and unclenched his hands in frustration looking around as if he’d find something to say written in the walls of the house somewhere. “What do you mean _you’re_ sorry? You’re not-“ He took a breath. “You have been angry at me,” he said carefully, lest he lose his grip on his sanity, “ for _three weeks!_ What the hell do you mean _you’re_ sorry? By all means you should be but-“

There was no more sanity to be lost.

The rain started pouring down in earnest. It was loud enough that Geralt had to step closer, right into his face so that Jaskier had to tilt up his head to look him in the eye, and now Geralt was angry and frustrated too. “I was never angry at you-“

“Yes you were!” Jaskier screamed over the pouring rain that stuck his hair to his face and soaked his clothes to his body. The tears started falling, mixing with the droplets of rain running down his cheeks. He shoved his hair out of his face, probably making it stick up ridiculously but he didn’t care. “You have been _avoiding_ me, and _ignoring_ me and I. Don’t know. _Why!”_

The rain made Geralt’s shirt stick to him in obscene ways, showing skin and muscles and everything shirts should hide. It made his hair curl in thick strands and his eyelashes stick together. It ran down his face and collected on his lips, then dripped down droplet by droplet. It was beautiful and it only made the angry tears come faster.

“I don’t _know_ why!” Geralt shouted, throwing his own arms up in frustration. Jaskier should probably have been scared but he wasn’t. “Why do _you_ have to make it so _hard_? You make it so hard to keep you out! You know that? You just insist on worming your way in! And with that stupid curse! I always get it wrong and then comes this curse and everything I tell you, you just- You just do it! And you hate me for it! You were always the one that wasn’t scared of me! And now with this damned curse- Just tell me why are you so scared of me now? Tell me!”

“Because I’m in love with you!” Jaskier shouts back completely against his will. “Dammit Geralt!” That fucking curse! Jaskier is sobbing. Sobbing in the cold and wet and honestly, he thinks, honestly it’s the perfect weather for this. The perfect weather for ruined friendships and tragic endings.

“What do you mean you’re in love with me?” Geralt yells. And then, so soft Jaskier can barely hear him above the rain. “What do you mean you’re in love with me?”

“Gods!” Jaskier punched a fist on his broad chest, it achieved absolutely nothing so it stayed there as he gasped for breath between sobs. “I mean that I’ve been in love with you for the longest bloody time and it has made being your friend so fucking hard and not being your friend impossible and every time I’m _close_ to you I just want to _kiss_ you and you’re always close but you don’t-“

Geralt cut him off, he captured his lips with his own and drew him closer so that he was in his arms. The Witcher was warm and big and he blocked out the rain with his own body and he was _kissing him._ Jaskier’s eyes slipped shut before he’d even had chance to process what was happening, they’re just standing there, lips locked in the pouring rain, not even moving. Geralt’s arms enveloped his small body, holding him close, he covered his mouth with his own and his body with his own like a blanket of protection, keeping out the rain and the cold and the whole world. It was warm and wet and _wonderful_.

And then Jaskier melted into Geralt, opening his lips so that Geralt’s tongue could slip in and he tasted apples and fresh water. Geralt’s tongue coaxed obscene sounds from Jaskier’s throat, Jaskier’s fist opened into a hand pressing onto Geralt’s soaked chest, feeling bones and muscles and then he locked his arms around his shoulders just to keep from falling because he was held so close he was nearly standing on Geralt’s toes.

Raindrops were gliding between them, between their lips and were eventually lost somewhere in their mouths. Geralt really knew what he was doing. His tongue traced teeth and then collided with another tongue, mixing and mingling in the best way possible. A faint brush of teeth made him gasp and then his lip was captured gently between Geralt’s teeth and his knees buckled. Jaskier held on tighter.

They broke apart for a single breath and then Geralt tilted his head, a new angle, a new burst of stars behind Jaskier’s eyelids. The wolf’s teeth closed over Jaskier’s lip, just a little harder, testing the waters. Jaskier whimpered in pleasure and Geralt licked over the spot he’d bitten as if in apology and then nipped it again.

“You’re cold,” Geralt murmured against his lips. It was a deep burr, a vibration that slid like sweet, thick honey down Jaskier’s throat and pooled in his stomach, fuel and a growing fire.

“You’re warm,” Jaskier replied stupidly and kissed Geralt’s smile away. Geralt swept tongue over Jaskier’s lip before the tongue was in his mouth again. Jaskier whined and threaded a hand into Geralt’s soaked hair, shuddering at the growl the Witcher made into his mouth. Breathe, tilt, lick, nip, bite and explore. It was all too much. Jaskier was barely standing, hanging on to Geralt’s shoulders for dear life.

Then, in one quick move, Geralt moved his hands under his thighs and hoisted him up before his strangled gasp was even fully out of his mouth and into Geralt’s. It was all he could do to wrap his legs around Geralt’s waist and hold on as Geralt’s walked them back to the manor with purpose, never breaking the kiss.

Jaskier felt like he was on top of the world, like he was so high up that if he let go right that very moment, he would fly. He had to tilt his head down to keep kissing Geralt and now it was sloppy and uncoordinated as they walked but it was heaven.

Water went flying everywhere as they crashed through the door to the kitchen and Jaskier was pressed to the wall. It soaked the kitchen wall, the floor, running down their clothes and dripping from their hair. It ran down their faces and necks and pooled up between them. It was a strange feeling, kissing in the rain. Every romantic bone in Jaskier’s body was thrumming at the knowledge.

Geralt fumbled to close the door. Behind them he heard Yennefer spit out her tea and and scream. “Not in my kitchen you wet dogs!” she shouted but Jaskier heard the smile in her voice, she let out a shout of joy but Geralt was already moving toward the stairs. “Yes! I knew it! You fuckers, I _knew_ it!” she shouted after them.

Geralt walked him up the stairs, his arms never faltered under Jaskier’s weight and his lips never left their place. He had to feel his way to the bedroom door, when they did reach it, Jaskier was pushed against it and writhing in Geralt’s arms, breathing heavily in between trying to devour Geralt alive.

Suddenly the door sprung open with no warning and Geralt, unprepared, stumbled forward and nearly sent the both crashing to the floor, but luckily the bed saved them from a painful fate. Jaskier couldn’t help laughing into Geralt’s mouth as he moved them from the edge of the bed to the middle so he could crawl over him and capture his lips again.

Jaskier’s brain had no idea what had just happened but his heart was jumping up and down in pure glee as he was pressed, soaking wet into expensive sheets by his favorite person in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No I am not chickening out of writing the smut it's coming like right next chapter but I am having a very hard time writing it and idk it's just hard. Anyway thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it, please leave kudos and comments for meeee <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely nothing to say for myself. I'm sorry I disappointed you all but honestly I don't even have an excuse other that I didn't want to do it but anyway I am a firm believer in that if you don't want to do something, don't so it.  
> So  
>  DISCLAIMER: This is pure smut. If you don't like it don't read it it is entirely skippable. Please note it is entirely skippable!!! Please don't come at me because I am telling you now. This is approximately 2500 words of pure smut, porn with feelings, if you will, and the next chapter after this will be even kinkier, and we will totally be abusing this curse because if you don't use obedience curses for kinky ass sex what are you even doing with your life?

“We-“ Jaskier started but couldn’t resist pulling Geralt back for another kiss. “We need to… close the door,” he finally managed. Geralt only hummed in agreement. His hair fell around them like a curtain closing them off from the rest of the world. Water dripped from the ends onto Jaskier’s shoulders, the pillows but he barely noticed the sheets already soaking up the water from his clothes.

Geralt got up to close the door, Jaskier whimpered at the loss of him but he was back almost instantly, hands and knees above Jaskier so that he was _effectively not touching him_ for some reason, Jaskier writhed beneath him. Then, awkwardly Geralt asked, “Do you umm… actually want to…or-“

“Yes, yes I do come here and take my clothes off,” Jaskier interrupted and promptly began pulling off Geralt’s soaked shirt. It clung to him like a second skin, but when it peeled away it revealed chiseled muscle, glistening with moisture from the rain outside. Jaskier’s _mouth watered_.

“Wanted to do this for ages,” he muttered in heavy breaths as he began undoing the buttons of his own shirt. “Can’t believe you. Does this mean you like me?”

“It means I was in love with you… and I didn’t notice,” Geralt admitted and gently removed Jaskier’s fumbling hands to undo the rest of the buttons himself. Jaskier leaned back on his elbows and watched his fingers work, idly tracing the shape of Geralt’s collarbone with his thumb as he watched. He was too dumbstruck to do anything else. Good heavens did the man want to kill him?

Jaskier couldn’t focus on anything, everything whirled together in his head. Geralt had kissed him, _Geralt_ had kissed _him_. Not the other way around Geralt had kissed him and now he was here, fingers brushing the skin of Jaskier’s abdomen as he unbuttoned his shirt. And now… He _was in love with him_? Since when?

“What do you mean you didn’t notice?” He asked, his head followed Geralt’s eyes as they roved slowly up the newly exposed skin as Geralt moved back up to loom over Jaskier and effectively render him speechless and frankly hopelessly turned on. “Mmmm’you’re a really good kisser,” he mumbled, mind veering off track again.

“So I’ve been told,” Geralt said and punctuated his statement with a sinful lick into Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier groaned and let his hands wander over solid muscle, cold fingers tracing lines from Geralt’s collarbone, his pectorals, his abs and down to the defined V that had always been his undoing. Geralt shivered under his gentle fingers stopping to play under the waistband of his leather pants. “What do you mean you didn’t notice?” Jaskier mumbled as Geralt gasped into his mouth. He was _sensitive_ there.

“Didn’t know what it was until one night-“ he started, but his eyes slipped shut as if he struggled to focus when Jaskier’s cold fingers were tracing the warm skin just where his pants covered it. “-Came back from a hunt to an inn, and- and you were curled up in an armchair by the fire, like you were waiting for me, and I had to carry you to bed, and I realized all I wanted was to crawl into bed with you and kiss you goodnight.”

“Yeah?”

“Wanted to kiss you ever since.” Geralt’s eyes were heavily lidded, warm in the light of the fire while the rain darkened the sky outside. Jaskier kissed him.

“You want to hear mine?”

Geralt hummed.

“I realized when I tore my shirt when we were crossing through a forest. I was complaining about it all night and then you gave me one of yours and the next morning you’d sown it up so perfectly I thought I might have imagined tearing it at all. And I think my heart jumped straight out of my chest and into your hands.”

Geralt leaned down to kiss him again. “That was so long ago,” Geralt marveled in a whisper. “You really like that shirt.” Jaskier hummed into his mouth and finally popped the button on Geralt’s pants free. Geralt groaned, Jaskier slid his hand inside slowly, cold fingers teasing over Geralt’s cock.

“Hurry up, Jaskier,” Geralt breathed and immediately Jaskier hurried up and shoved his pants away, in a second they were gone, as well as his boots.

“Geralt, you know I can’t help doing as I’m told and as much as I’d like to experiment with it later, can you please just let me have this? I mean it _is_ our first time.”

Geralt hummed. “Do what you want then.” Rather abruptly, Jaskier kissed him hard and flipped them so that he was straddling Geralt. He mouthed at the Witcher’s neck and lower, over his chest and down his abdomen and closed a hand over Geralt’s cock, murmuring, “You have no idea what I _want_.”

“You’re-“ Geralt panted, “you’re making it quite clear what you want.” Jaskier hummed in agreement and removed his own boots and pants, Geralt made a small noise at the loss of his hand on his cock. But then it was bare skin against bare skin, nothing in between, just raindrops mixing with sweat assisting the glide of their bodies.

Geralt flipped them again and plunged his tongue into Jaskier’s mouth, effectively pinning him down and keeping him from following his order. “We need-“

“Bedside table,” Jaskier interrupted him.

“Why is there oil in the bedside table,” Geralt asked as he opened the drawer and retrieved it.

“Yennefer.” Geralt apparently needed no more explanation.

He poured the oil over his fingers and then he was on top of Jaskier again, a tender look on his face, Jaskier’s heart melted. He guided Jaskier’s leg around his waist, Jaskier took the hint and wrapped both legs around him. There was a careful, gentle finger at his entrance, probing softly before it finally sank in, slowly, testing the waters.

Jaskier had gone weeks since his last disappointing, not-Geralt, fuck. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like. Geralt’s fingers were big, Jaskier wrapped his legs tighter arund Geralt’s waist.

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked, eyebrows raised in heart melting concern, “Tell me if I hurt you?” Jaskier nodded breathlessly and wondered if Geralt had meant for it to be an order. And then the finger was moving, stretching him with a kind of softness that has Jaskier tugging him into a kiss to avoid saying something sappy.

One finger turned into two, moving and scissoring and drawing deep moans from Jaskier that Geralt swallowed down readily as their lips dance.

“M’ready,” Jaskier mumbled, already lost to the pleasure.

Geralt mumbled something back equally lost. Suddenly he was gone and Jaskier had to open his eyes to see where he’d gone, secretly mourning the loss of those fingers in him. Geralt was slicking himself in oil.

Jaskier’s almost visibly drooled at the sight. “Gods don’t look at me like that,” Geralt told him and crawled back over him, rendering Jaskier speechless by practically shoving his tongue down his throat. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he shot back into Geralt’s mouth.

Geralt finally guided himself to Jaskier’s entrance, refraining from trying to physically devour Jaskier with his kisses to lock eyes with him as he pushed in. Torturously slow. Heart clenchingly slow. So slow Jaskier was torn between writhing and begging for more and _crying_ because Geralt was so careful, and although it hadn’t completely registered yet, the only word he could think of was _loving_. 

Jaskier fisted a hand in Geralt’s hair. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell him to hurry up, that he could take more, faster, he wanted to close his eyes, but he found himself unable to look away from the golden suns that stared into his soul, his mouth opened in a silent moan because yes, yes it was hell sent torture but damn did it feel _heavenly_.

And then Geralt was sheathed inside him to the very base and Jaskier clung to him like a life line, unable to do anything else. Words were stuck in his throat.

“Are you okay?” Geralt asked, concerned.

“Yes, yes I just-“ a harsh breath left him, “Just wow. I never thought I’d- Never thought we’d…”

“I know,” Geralt whispered, “ I know. Me too.” Although Jaskier already found it hard to breathe, he willingly sacrificed a few breaths to cup Geralt’s face in his hands and kiss him. Hoping to convey everything he couldn’t say in words into that one kiss.

“You can move now.”

Geralt bottomed out and achingly slowly pressed back in and that, good Melitele, that was Jaskier knew _heaven_ was _this_. Geralt’s thrusts were deep and slow and thorough and bone deeply _satisfying_ , Jaskier’s back arched off the bed as he pressed in, feeling Geralt in places he hadn’t known he had.

His breath left him completely, mouth open in a silent moan or scream or _anything_ to describe just how _good_ Geralt felt inside him. Jaskier’s hands scrabbled for something to hold on to and found purchase on Geralt’s shoulders, his nails digging into the skin there. Jaskier wasn’t going to last long. He could already feel the pleasure building in his stomach, his chest, a pressure so thick it threatened constantly to burst and overflow and drown him with it.

Geralt was silent, watching Jaskier with an unreadable expression before dipping his head to give him a slow kiss and then nuzzle into Jaskier’s neck, pressing open mouthed kisses there. His rhythm never faltered, never slowed, a constant unfazed by the blinding pleasure that rendered Jaskier completely and utterly speechless, unmoving and so drunk on pleasure for a moment that all he could do was hold on.

Muscle and bone rolled under Jaskier’s fingers with every one if Geralt’s thrusts, Jaskier let his hands trail down Geralt’s spine and then over his bulging bicep, marveling at the hard strength he felt there.

The rhythm kept up, unwavering, so constant it gave Jaskier just a moment to gather his scattered wits and soon he was canting his hips up to meet Geralt’s thrusts and the Witcher moaned from deep in his throat.

Jaskier, for the first time in… ever really, was at a complete loss for words. Geralt’s gaze on him was warm and heavy lidded, drinking him in. It made Jaskier infinitely aware of himself and just how naked he was. Geralt could see everything, all of him. Jaskier was _vulnerable_ , so indescribably vulnerable and Geralt was just looking at him like that. Like he really liked what he saw. Jaskier had a sudden burst of confidence.

Jaskier placed a hand on Geralt’s chest, Geralt didn’t resist him, letting him push until Jaskier was on top and hungrily licking into Geralt’s mouth and pawing at his chest and setting a new, faster rhythm. Geralt made an unholy noise into his mouth and let his big hands trail over Jaskier’s body, callouses scraping softly against Jaskier’s unmarred skin. Down his sides, circling his thumbs on his hips and down the soft skin of his thighs, leaving warm trails in their wake.

Soon their rhythm was stuttering, hips moving erratically, both searching desperately for the relief within their grasp. “Touch me,” Jaskier breathed. Geralt’s hand was there instantly, gripping his cock with sword-calloused fingers and by the gods did that feel good.

“Come for me,” Geralt whispered roughly into his ear, out of breath, and Jaskier had no choice to follow the order, for some reason it made it that much better. The pleasure was blinding, he couldn’t help but close his eyes and relish in the feeling of riding it out.

As Jaskier is floating on his high, Geralt comes too, painting him from inside.

“Holy fucking shit,” Jaskier whispered harshly between their heavy breaths. Holy fucking shit.

“Oh my gods, Geralt you better get used to this because we’re doing this every day for the rest of our lives and you can’t change my mind. That was the most amazing thing I have ever done, you know, that was really something. Maybe this curse isn’t that bad I think I have a thing for it.” Geralt let out a breathy laugh at that, a small, happy smile quirking at his lips as he gazed warmly up at Jaskier who was just rambling at him. Jaskier was so in love.

Jaskier pulled off with a wince and dropped down heavily next to Geralt but he was barely fully on the mattress before Geralt let out a pitiful, distraught _whine_ of protest that Jaskier had never imagined coming from his mouth, and rolled onto Jaskier, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s torso and pressing his face into Jaskier’s chest.

Jaskier was at a loss, a surprised squeak was stuck in his throat, he didn’t dare move his arms from where they were suspended in the air. Geralt was _clinging_ to him, effectively hugging him without any seeming intention to let go. _Geralt was cuddly after sex._

“Oh my gods, you’re the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” Jaskier marveled in one single breath and laid his hands softly in Geralt’s mussed up hair, waiting for the growl or the sharp retort but Geralt only let out a pleased sigh and turned his head so he could comfortable lay a cheek on Jaskier’s sternum.

Jaskier was _so_ in love.

He told Geralt so, and instead of huffing a laugh and pulling away, Geralt hummed and mumbled, “Love you too.”

Jaskier was soooooo in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cute stuff right? Anyway I promise, promise, pinky swear, (that's sacred) that I am done with the next chapter and I'll either post it tomorrow or the day after, it really depends on how many likes I get on the tumblr post. (Go check it out at thewitcherssongbird)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have 2000 words of kinky curse smut, on me. Enjoy!  
> This chapter is also pretty skippable, like the first part is pretty safe, if you're uncomfortable with smut, I think you'll know when to leave.

Geralt’s head was on still on Jaskier’s chest, his arms were still wrapped around his waist because the simple truth was that he couldn’t stand to let go just yet. He listened to the slow rhythm of his pulsing heart, the rise and fall of Jaskier’s breathing nearly lulled him into unconsciousness all he wanted to do was go to sleep again but Jaskier’s skin was icy from the rain and cooling sweat and he had no doubt that while the afterglow was still strong, Jaskier would soon start to mind the cold, damp sheets under them.  
“You need a bath,” Geralt mumbled.   
“Are you telling me I smell?”  
Geralt huffed an amused laugh, but pushed himself off the bed with an impressive show of pure will. “You’re frozen. Come on, get up.” Jaskier moaned as he got up.  
“Not faaaair, you can’t make me.” He put on a childish pout. Geralt hummed and kissed it away. And with a mischievous smirk, whispered, “Oh, at the moment, I think I can make you do just about anything.”  
“Oh no, now that isn’t fair,” Jaskier breathed quietly, heartbeat picking up and steadied himself with two hands on Geralt’s chest. “You can’t just say things like that!” Geralt chuckled and grabbed the blanket to wrap it around Jaskier’s shoulders, Jaskier didn’t seem to notice. Then he pulled away to put on his own pants even for the short journey to the bathroom, because if Yennefer caught him naked in her house, he thought, she might just actually kick him out.   
Jaskier mumbled something and collapsed dramatically on the bed, snuggling back into the pillows, closing his eyes and pointedly ignoring him. Geralt snorted and Jaskier’s façade was given away by the small smile that pulled insistently at the corner of his lip.   
Geralt smiled and scooped him up bridal style and Jaskier yelped in surprise, stubbornly closed eyes flying open as he clung to Geralt and struggled in his arms. “Put me down!”   
Geralt laughed and held on tighter as he opened the door and carried his lover down the hall to the bathroom, complaints ringing in his ear until Jaskier eventually gave up and let himself be carried with a heavy sigh.   
When they entered the bathroom, water was already steaming in the tub. “Oh my gods,” Jaskier exclaimed, “does she really just spend all her time doing things like this?” Geralt only sighed and set Jaskier down to help him disentangle himself from the damp blanket. Jaskier stepped into the water and winced at the sudden temperature change as he sank into the tub.  
Geralt allowed himself a moment to stare at Jaskier’s face, eyes closed as he relaxed into the heat. Seconds dragged by. “I can feel you staring.”  
“Fuck off.” Geralt blushed and was grateful Jaskier’s eyes were still closed as he smiled in amusement.  
Geralt removed his pants and stepped into the water, he sank down, leaning his back to the other side of the huge tub and was caught in Jaskier’s gaze. His expression was unreadable as he eyed Geralt, not meeting his eyes.  
“What?”  
“Nothing.” Jaskier blushed and looked away. Geralt raised an eyebrow. When Jaskier said nothing, he held out a hand.  
“Come here.” It was gentle, not a demand, really but the curse apparently didn’t care about that either way. Jaskier sighed as he pushed off his side of the bathtub and took Geralt’s hand. Geralt pulled him close and maneuvered him so that his back was pressed against Geralt’s chest. Jaskier melted into him.  
“This what you wanted?” Geralt asked and snaked is arms around Jaskier. The bard hummed contentedly.   
“So what now?” Jaskier asked quietly.  
Geralt shrugged. “We still wait out the curse I guess?”  
“No, I mean…” Jaskier sighed, “What now with us? What are we?”  
Geralt hummed thoughtfully, circling a thumb on the skin of Jaskier’s upper arm. “I don’t know. Whatever you want us to be. As long as you don’t fuck any more tavern wenches and stable boys… I don’t think I could take it... I’d kill them all… my reputation would be ruined…”  
Jaskier snorted. “Oh so now we care about the reputation I’ve worked so hard to build?” Geralt hummed, smiling as he nuzzled into his neck.   
“Well, you care about it. I can’t ruin all your hard work, now can I?” Geralt pressed a kiss below Jaskier’s ear. Jaskier hummed and craned his neck to the side to give him more access.   
“We’ll just… be then. We’ll just be together? Lovers or.. something?”  
“Yes,” Geralt whispered.   
“But you’ll be mine, right? Only mine and I’ll be just yours.” Jaskier’s voice was slurring, is eyes slipped shut when Geralt flattened his tongue to his pulse.  
“Only yours,” Geralt agreed. Only his. Only his. The words rang in is ears, Geralt clung to them. Then Jaskier gasped at the breath on his neck, squirming against him. Geralt’s cock twitched under the water. Jaskier didn’t stop moving wildly in his grip, rubbing against Geralt, his breath quickened.   
“What do you want?” Geralt murmured. Glancing over Jaskier’s shoulder to see that the bard was already half hard.  
Jaskier hesitated for a moment and then, tentatively, “Well… about that curse…”  
“Hmm. I see. Tell me if you want me to stop then.”  
Jaskier nodded mutely and then he took a sharp breath when Geralt grazed his teeth along his neck and trailed his hands slowly down his sides. Down down down and then bypassing Jaskier’s rapidly hardening cock. Jaskier whined quietly at that. He stroked over the insides of his thighs, spreading his legs. Jaskier gripped Geralt’s forearm, back arching, he writhed under Geralt’s touch.  
Geralt trailed kisses from his ear down to his shoulder and then caught Jaskier’s earlobe between his teeth and whispered his first command hotly in Jaskier’s ear, “Stop squirming.”  
Jaskier stilled in is lap, still clutching Geralt’s forearm in a death grip as he smoothed his hands over his creamy thighs. Geralt started sucking a bruise on Jaskier’s neck, relishing the way his chest heaved with heavy breaths.  
“How do you feel about being tied up?”  
“Yes please,” Jaskier squeaked. Geralt smiled, how was he so cute and so fucking obscene at the same time?  
Gently, Geralt pried Jaskier’s hand from his forearm and guided is wrists behind his back. “Keep your hands here.”  
Jaskier whined from deep in his chest. Oh, he really did like this curse, then. Not that Geralt was complaining. Geralt moved one hand to rest at the top of Jaskier’s inner thigh, barely an inch away from his now fully hard cock, and trailed the other up to brush over Jaskier’s nipple.   
Jaskier gasped, head falling back onto Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt took the opportunity to mouth over his throat, gently tonguing his adams apple and grinning when he felt Jaskier swallow thickly against his lips. He was falling apart and Geralt had barely even touched him. It was beautiful.  
“Tell me what you want,” he ordered softly, gently tweaking his nipple.  
“Hnnng oh gods, touch me, I want you to touch me, please.” Jaskier tried to cant his hips up for some contact but Geralt’s hand stayed where it was.  
“Hmm.” He stroked his palm down the inside of Jaskier’s thigh. “But I am touching you, little songbird.”  
Jaskier made a keening sound from the back of his throat. “Please, please Geralt, touch my cock, please-“ And then Geralt finally took Jaskier in his hand and the sound Jaskier made was almost enough to make Geralt cave and fuck Jaskier until they both fell to pieces right then and there.  
Jaskier cried out, muscles tensing in his arms where they were pressed against Geralt’s chest in his thighs that were nearly quivering. Geralt stroked him slowly, thoroughly, drawing it out as he toyed with Jaskier’s nipple, feeling his heaving chest under his fingertips.  
“What else.”  
Jaskier let out loud breath, “Fuck me.”  
“Hmm. Say please.”  
“Please.” The word dripped from his lips like warm honey. Jaskier had a thing for begging. “Please, please, please.”  
Geralt removed his hand from Jaskier’s cock to press a finger to his entrance, still stretched from their previous activities. Jaskier moaned loudly at the loss of it, his back arched away from Geralt, chasing the touch.  
“Do you need some more oil?” Geralt asked, genuinely concerned and desperately hoping Yennefer kept oils on the shelf next to the guest bath for some strange reason.  
“No, no, please, I need-“ His arms strained under their invisible confines, is thighs shook and his breathing was coming in short bursts.   
“I’m here, I’m here,” Geralt murmured, Jaskier calmed just a little, breaths still coming hot and fast. Geralt pressed two fingers into him, just to make sure. He experimented, pressing against his walls until finally Jaskier made a desperate sound between a gasp and a high whine. His head shot up to turn to Geralt, his eyes were heavy lidded, his lips just slightly swollen and Geralt had a sudden surge of pride that he put that expression there, he had made Jaskier look like that and even though the angle was awkward, he kissed him tenderly.  
Geralt pressed at the bundle of nerves for few moments before he removed his fingers and finally pressed the tip of his cock to Jaskier’s hole, pushing in slow until he was once more balls deep in Jaskier. His own breathing was ragged already. He wasted no time this time, moving in quick, shallow thrusts. A litany of noises spilled from Jaskier’s mouth.  
Jaskier moved his knees to either side of Geralt’s legs to allow himself to meet Geralt’s movements with his own, thighs spread obscenely wide. Geralt moved the hand still absently playing with Jaskier’s nipple down to take his cock in hand. The other hand he rested in Jaskier’s hip, supporting him as he moved up and down erratically.  
Geralt adjusted his angle, searching to find Jaskier’s sweet spot and find it he did. Jaskier cried out again, biting down hard on his lip. Geralt removed the hand from his hip to tug the lip from his teeth and listen to the noises that spilled from his lips. He turned his head to kiss him tenderly in contrast to the rough thrusts of his hips.   
“You come when I do,” Geralt ordered. Jaskier whined at that but nodded his head. Then Geralt was chasing his release with wild abandon, his thrusts became random and erratic, desperate. Jaskier’s high, breathy noises were picking up now, as if their pleasure ad synchronized with the single command and Jaskier could feel Geralt getting closer, rapidly nearing the edge.  
Finally, they were both toppling over the edge, riding out their pleasure together and Geralt’s moans harmonized with Jaskier’s. White hot pleasure burst deep in geralt’s stomach, exploding behind his eyelids. They milked it for all it was worth, until they both slumped in the bath, chests heaving in tandem.  
The quiet wasn’t awkward, didn’t need to be filled with anything other than their breathing.   
Until, “Uuh, Geralt… that was- that was really good, best sex of my life to be honest but um, I still can’t move my arms.”  
He’d almost forgotten. “Do what you want,” he said through clenched teeth as he pulled out, overstimulated and tired and really just wondering how Jaskier, human Jaskier, must be feeling at the moment.   
“I want to kiss you until I suffocate…” Jaskier murmured and turned to do just that. Jaskier’s clever tongue was back in his mouth, and although he didn’t have lifetimes of experience on how to pleasure people like Geralt did, Geralt though he might as well have because he really did know what he was doing with that tongue.  
“Do as you will then,” he said, just in case Jaskier was serious about the suffocating and Geralt discovered that for once, what Jaskier wanted to do and planned to do were the same thing and he kissed his Witcher breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave kudos and comments, or don't if it makes you uncomfortable. ANYway idk about the next chapter but it'll probably be up soon. I think there will be one or two chapters after this but idk I'm making this up as I go along.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is just a super fluffy chapter of geraskier being cute, idiots in love if you will and finally, fucking finally they both know it

They finally made it back to their room after spending far too much time washing each other’s hair and lathering soap into each other’s skin and a frankly ridiculous amount of time just in each other’s arms, kissing in the cooling water. When they finally found some dry clothes and made their way downstairs to face Yennefer’s teasing and eat something, she was nowhere to be found.

Jaskier went off to the kitchen to make them some eggs even though it was well past noon and let Geralt scour the house for Yennefer. He came back when the eggs were nearly fried to perfection and reported that she was nowhere to be found.

Jaskier was about to ask where she could have gone in the pouring rain but then he remembered that Yennefer was, in fact, a powerful sorceress who could quite literally go wherever she pleased at any given time of the day. “Well,” he said unsurely, “ah, maybe she left to, you know…”

“Avoid having to listen to us fucking?” Geralt deadpanned without hesitation.

“Uh, yes. That.” Jaskier turned back his back to Geralt to flip the eggs and hide his blush, not that Geralt needed to know that. “Gods, you’re so vulgar,” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh, you love it.” Jaskier didn’t answer, hoping Geralt would leave it at that. Suddenly his voice was right in his ear. “You know, _I_ don’t mind listening to you begging and screaming.” Geralt snaked his arms around him and put his chin on his shoulder and Jaskier flinched so violently, the spoon went flying.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You’re so… jumpy.” Jaskier relaxed in his arms as he traced circles on his sides. Jaskier was so thin he could wrap him up completely in his arms.

“M’sorry, I just have to get used to it. I haven’t had a real uh… relationship in… ever… really. It’s just new. And _you_. You’re cuddly now.”

“Really?” Geralt asked disbelivingly.

“What?” Jaskier snapped a tad defensively. It didn’t deter Geralt as he rocked them from side to side, arms tightening around his waist.

“You’ve never been in a relationship?”

“Well what’s so surprising about that?”

“You’re a romantic. I just thought there’d have been at least someone you had, been in love with.”

Jaskier hummed and considered that and then realized that there really had never been anyone he loved. When he was young, he had been so focused on his career, he had never found time for anything more that casual flings. It wasn’t that he had never wanted love, it had just always seemed so far away, another line in a song or a chapter in a story. Nothing real, attainable.

And then he had met Geralt and the world had slid from his grasp so quickly, the beautiful women slowly lost their appeal and the handsome men became a thing of indifference. The world had lost its splendor, his interest in it slipping away until and all that was left was Geralt. He never thought he really wanted love, and yet here it was, clear as day. He was in love with Geralt. Completely, irrevocably in love and the thing was, Geralt loved him back. He was almost giddy with happiness.

Suddenly there was a loud swooshing sound. Jaskier screamed, Geralt jumped and the eggs nearly went flying. Yennefer stepped smoothly out of a portal, brushing what looked like some kind of bug off her shoulder and back through the portal where it belonged.

“Oh my,” she said slyly, “am I interrupting something?”

“No,” they both said too quickly. Yennefer smiled. Jaskier turned back to the eggs with a scowl.

“Eggs? Now? It’s past noon,” she informed them and with a mischievous smile, “You really did take a while then.”

“Oh fuck off, you would too,” Jaskier muttered at his eggs and heard Geralt’s choked off laugh behind him. He blushed furiously and hoped Geralt’s accursed ears weren’t paying much attention to his fluttering pulse.

“Well,” she said with a happy sigh, “I’m off to make your antidote then unless you uh, had a bit too much fun with your situation…”

 _“Antidote?”_ they both shouted at once and then Geralt was saying something along the lines of “You had an antidote this whole time, Yennefer you-” and Jaskier was saying something like “You could have fixed it? What do you mean antidote?” and the end result was a cacophony of indistinguishable babbling and demands. Yennefer left them with an amused laugh and a swish of her dress as she turned.

“You meddling witch!” Geralt shouted after her, not quite managing to sound angry.

Jaskier flopped onto a kitchen chair. “Why did she tell us we had to wait it out then?”

Geralt stood and scooped the eggs onto two plates before they burned. “She wanted to meddle.”

“Meddle?”

“With us. She’s been meddling since we got here.”

“What do you mean she’s been meddling with us since we got here?”

“Well,” Geralt started in a tone Jaskier couldn’t read, “in the past few weeks you have tripped over nothing an _un_ believable amount of times and only when I was there to catch you too.”

Jaskier groaned and hid his blushing face in his hands, curling his legs up in the chair and hoping he’d disappear. Meli-fucking-tele this was embarrassing. Jaskier prayed for spontaneous combustion.

“And,” Geralt continued, Jaskier curled up deeper into his chair, “she locked us in the kitchen that day. And the _bed!”_

“The bed?” Jaskier asked meekly.

“I just realized there are probably five guestrooms in this house and she put us in the same one with one bed on purpose.”

Jaskier groaned again and hoped the kitchen chair would eat him. Swallow him whole. Geralt hunted down some cutlery and set a plate in front of Jaskier.

“She wanted to get us together this whole time, and I thought _you_ didn’t want to be with _me_ and you thought _I_ didn’t want to be with _you_ and well, it was a twisted road but she got us there eventually I suppose. And for all my protests,” his voice turned soft, “It worked and I’m really glad it did. But don’t tell her that I’m still mad.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he demanded but it was muffled against his hands. There was a moment of silence in which Jaskier couldn’t tell what Geralt was doing because he still hid his face firmly in his hands. Then Geralt knelt in front of him and prying them from his face, tilting his head up with two fingers while he interwined his other hand with Jaskier’s.

“I’m sorry.” there was a furrow between his eyebrows, he looked guilty. Geralt looked away and swallowed heavily. “If I had told you, I would have had to tell you _why_ she was meddling.”

Jaskier relaxed and placed a palm on his cheek, if Jaskier had been honest, he’d never actually been mad. He just liked to pretend for the drama. “Alright, I forgive you. Although maybe if you _had_ we wouldn’t have screamed at each other in the rain.”

Geralt huffed a laugh and then finally looked him in the eye, “No I suppose we wouldn’t have. But then we wouldn’t have kissed in the rain and I rather liked that.”

Jaskier became hyper aware of Geralt’s thumb stroking over the back of his hand. Goosebumps raced over his skin and the blush which seemed ever present today was back. She shivered, Geralt noticed and grinned roguishly. Jaskier’s scowl melted away as soon as Geralt inching his hand up his arm, no doubt acutely feeling the goosebumps there.

“Stop that, we need to eat,” he tried weakly and to be honest he really wasn’t sure he was ready to go again. Did Witcher stamina apply here too? Why was that so erotic? But his breath came back to him when Geralt relented and removed his hand, turning to sit down in his own chair. Jaskier scowled at him, but Geralt only smiled knowingly, as if he knew Jaskier was secretly kicking himself for telling Geralt to stop. Jaskier scowled harder.

“You’re a strange man Jaskier,” Geralt told him suddenly. Jaskier’s brow furrowed in question. “Sometimes you’re so crude and yet you blush when someone else is.”

Jaskier looked away and chewed on his egg. “Shut up.”

Geralt laughed. It was a sound that made Jaskier try and fail to hold back a smile. Euphoria burst under his skin, he thought he could happily spend the rest of his life trying to make Geralt laugh.

When the eggs were gone and there was nothing to do they went to lounge on the couch in Yennefer’s apothecary and glare at her but when she didn’t react they both silently agreed that it was boring and left to play some gwent on the sitting room table.

They had been at it for a while when Jaskier casually said, “We should play strip gwent.”

Geralt’s eyes went wide, his jaw dropped. Jaskier would bet good money that if they hadn’t been sitting on the floor Geralt would have falled off his chair. “Strip gwent?” he asked. Jaskier smirked at him over the table.

“You know, every time you lose you take off an item of clothing and-“

“I know what strip gwent is and we are not playing strip gwent.”

“Why not?”

Geralt ignored him.

“Why not, Geralt?” he sing-songed.

Geralt shrugged, “maybe I’m just bad at gwent.”

Jaskier leveled him with an unamused look. “You’re perfectly good at gwent. You’re winning.”

“Yes exactly, that’s the problem.”

“Oh?” Jaskier raised an eyebrow.

“I’d be winning and you’d be half naked and I couldn’t fuck you until we’re done. And then when you’re almost completely naked you’d start winning and because I’d be so distracted and then you’d be teasing me the whole time and in the end neither of us would win because I’d tear off both our clothes and fuck you on the table before anyone could win. It’s a problem.”

Jaskier had to stop himself from drooling.

“Can we _please_ play strip gwent?”

Geralt only hummed, smirking, and glanced pointedly at the apothecary. “Not now.”

Jaskier shuffled on the floor and bit his lip. Why was the man so blunt? It was _doing things_ to him.

“Okay as soon as this curse is over and you can’t order me to lose we’re so playing strip gwent.”

“Is that so?”

“It is,” Jaskier said mock-formally, “First to cave gets to do whatever he wants with the other. Within reason and consent of course.” He stretched his hand out over the table for Geralt to shake.

Geralt bared his teeth in a grin and shook it. “Deal.”

Jaskier looked back at their game of gwent and threw down his cards. “Okay, I’m sorry that’s it you’ve ruined our game. Gwent is forever something that I will associate wit sex now.”

“I’ve ruined it?” Geralt asked incredulously but he was smiling and putting down his own cards. “You started it!”

“Did not!”

“You did!”

“Did not!” And then he scrambled backwards when he noticed Geralt was approaching him like a stalking wolf. A laugh bubbled out of his chest, he couldn’t stop smiling, his cheeks were starting to hurt.

Geralt pounced and Jaskier screamed as he landed on top of him. He shrieked and laughed and screamed and thrashed for all he was worth but Geralt straddled him and caught his wrists effortlessly and pinned them above his head. All the while they were both grinning like loons.

“Alright alright,” Jaskier panted. “Let me go.”

“Not before you admit you started it.”

Jaskier pretended to consider it. “But I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Did not.”

Geralt leaned down until his breath was hot on Jaskier’s skin, his lips nearly touching his ear. “I can make you.”

Jaskier gasped dramatically, “You wouldn’t!”

“I would.”

“Shame on you Geralt, shame on you, that is cheating. Look at that now I’m almost hard again. You’d think twice was enough.” He was smiling so brightly he thought his smile might just stay there forever.

Geralt snorted and shut him up by kissing him senseless.

Geralt kissed him breathless and just when he thought he’d suffocate he’d move to Jaskier’s neck or his jaw and just shower his skin with kisses, he never let Jaskier’s wrists go, keeping them pinned to the floor above his head.

He couldn’t tell how much time had passed before they heard a loud shriek. _“Not on my living room floor you animals!”_

They scrambled apart but it was barely seconds before they both burst out laughing.

“If you want to have sex, do it in the bed I gave you,” Yennefer grumbled. “Now come and eat, it’s time for supper.”

They all ate their fill and came to the agreement that all was forgiven because, as Jaskier had said, if Yennefer wanted to scheme and meddle in their affairs it was only fair she accept the consequences.

After some mouth melting dessert, they all moved to the sitting room to laze about on the furniture. Yennefer was engrossed in a book, Geralt had tried to start one and gotten bored and Jaskier hadn’t even bothered.

Geralt seemed to fidget for a while before he gathered his courage and held out his arms for Jaskier. Jaskier obliged, crawling on top of him and letting him wrap his arms around him and cover them both with a blanket. Geralt’s arms were a comforting weight on him, Jaskier tangled their legs together and let out a heavy sigh, snuggling comfortably into Geralt’s neck.

Soon his thoughts drifted, his breath evened out and he was barely aware of the kiss Geralt pressed to the top of his head. He smiled as he fell asleep.

***

“Oh, I forgot to tell you-“ Yennefer broke off when Geralt shushed her. She smiled when she saw that Jaskier was asleep on top of Geralt. “Your potion is finished. You’ll both need to drink a vial in the morning,” she whispered. “Just thought I’d tell you if you wanted to do anything… particular while the curse was still in effect.”  
Geralt rolled his eyes but thanked her.

Yennefer watched as Geralt smoothed a strand of hair away from Jaskier’s face and pressed another soft kiss to his forehead. She was suddenly hit by just how happy she was for both of them.

“What,” he whispered, she figured there must have been a strange expression on her face.

“Nothing. It’s nice to see you happy. Both of you.”

Geralt smiled again. She though the muscles in his cheeks must have been tired, he didn’t use them much. “He thinks you don’t like him you know.”

Yennefer breathed a soft laugh. “He thought I didn’t even know his name.”

The quiet was comfortable for a while. “I do like him.”

Geralt hummed. “You should tell _him_ that.”

“Alright. I will.”

Geralt didn’t answer, just closed his eyes, he seemed content with her promise. She could tell he wasn’t sleeping, though. With a sudden pang, she realized that now that they had the antidote, there was nothing keeping them here. She wondered just when she had gotten so attached. She’d miss the idiots.

“The rain should let up tomorrow afternoon,” she started carefully. “I suppose you’ll be leaving then?”

Geralt smiled as if he knew just what she was thinking. Knew what she was saying. His eyes were still closed. “Maybe the day after tomorrow… Don’t worry. I think we’ll be visiting more often.” If it weren’t for the peaceful bard on his chest, she had thrown her book at him for the smirk he wore.

After a few quiet minutes, Geralt heaved a sigh and started moving Jaskier around in his arms. He stood up, easily picking Jaskier up as he went. Jaskier shifted a little and cracked his eyes open. “Shh,” Geralt soothed, “let’s go to bed.”

He started toward the stairs and Yennefer hear Jaskier mumble something that sounded like, “’m a princess now. Carry me, my knight in shining armor.”

Geralt smiled and said, “I am carrying you, and my armor’s all black.”

Jaskier hummed, his eyes slipping shut as Geralt carried him up the stairs. “Your sword’s shiny,” he mumbled. “And your heart.”

“My heart?”

She could barely make out the words now but she swore Jaskier answered, “Yeah, a heart of gold. Very shiny gold.”

She really did like Jaskier, she though as she smiled and turned back to her book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I think there will be one more final chapter so we're not done yet. Thank you for reading, please leave kudos and comments for me!

**Author's Note:**

> What oh what will happen next. The next chapter will be up very soon. Thank you for reading, please leave kudos and comments! <3


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